


Eidolon

by agdgoddess



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: Bitter-fucking-sweet, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22262905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agdgoddess/pseuds/agdgoddess
Summary: Murphy had always been by Connor's side, his twin as real and tangible as himself, despite what everyone else believed or tried to convince Connor of otherwise.
Relationships: Connor MacManus/Murphy MacManus
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	Eidolon

**Author's Note:**

> Eidolon--1) "a phantom, apparition"; and 2) "an ideal"
> 
> This is in no way meant to be an accurate portrayal of any diagnoses or therapy for mental health issues.
> 
> I absolutely hated to do this to the boys, but this would not leave me the fuck alone. So, apologies.

"Is Murphy here with us, now?" Unbidden, Connor's eyes darted to the corner of the room where, indeed, Murphy was leaning against the loaded bookshelf, thumbing through the heavy DSM-IV text in his hands. Hoping he'd been too fast for the doctor to notice, he was dismayed to see the inquisitive look on her face.

"No, he's not. But that's where he'd be if he was," he lied smoothly, small noise of Murphy's approval fortifying his inner strength. He could do this.

"And who is Murphy?" She removed her spectacles and placed them on her desk as she leaned forward slightly. This was always the trick question. _Don't say my twin, my brother, my best friend, my everything_. And the trick, too, was to seem unaffected by lying. To tell their version of the truth, no matter how much it gutted him.

"He's no one. He's not real--a mental manifestation of my guilt." She didn't move, didn't say a word so he continued, parroting the words that Murphy was currently whispering into his ear. "Guilt over the fact that my twin died and I didn't, that somehow it was my fault that he did. And, that because of his death, my ma started to drink more and my da eventually left."

"Hmm. Connor, are you saying this because it's what you truly believe or because it's what you think we want to hear?" This one didn't miss a thing.

"What do you think?" He responded calmly.

She sighed, shifting to ease back into her chair. "I think you are far more intelligent than anyone has ever given you credit for."

"Intelligence doesn't matter when everyone thinks you're crazy." Connor couldn't help the bored tone in his voice, refusing to fall for the obvious cajoling compliment. "Oh, I'm sorry. Not crazy. Merely suffering from schizophrenia and major depressive disorder."

"You miss him." He arched his left eyebrow at her skeptically. This was a new angle. "Murphy. He's not just your guilt. He's your conscience, your desires, your fears. He represents everything you are and everything you wish you could be. He's an extension of yourself."

"Even if that's the case, he's still not real. I know that. And I know I need to deal internally with everything ya just listed, like normal people do, rather than rely upon an imaginary friend." The jerked movement of Murphy's head caught the corner of his eye but he refused to glance over and see what he knew would be the stony set of Murphy's mouth, the flash of hurt in his blue eyes. It pained them both, but it was necessary.

"Murphy's not an imaginary friend. That's a phase children go through. He's not a phase. He's permanent."

"You're the expert, doc."

"No, I'm not, at least when it comes to him. You're the expert on Murphy." She raised her eyebrows, daring him to argue, which he didn't. "Why don't you tell me about him more. Start from the beginning."

Connor scoffed. "Isn't it all already in those overflowing files ya got on me?" he asked, gesturing with a nod of his head at the four thick folders on her desk.

The doctor looked him straight in the eye as she pushed the pile perilously close to the edge. "Doctors' notes and second hand accounts. I'd rather hear it directly from you, if you don't mind."

"Well, doc, I kinda do mind. I'm a bit sick of relaying my life story to people who already have made up their minds about us." Murphy snarled behind him at his inadvertent slip. "About me," he quickly amended as he rubbed at the scruff outlining his jaw.

"No, you were right the first time, Connor. Us. Murphy's a huge part of who you are."

He cocked his head thoughtfully, carefully assessing her with sharp, clear eyes. "You're different," he observed, feeling his twin nodding over his shoulder.

"I'll take that as a high compliment." She gave him a small smile that appeared trustworthy. "I'm not here to judge or diagnose you, or to simply medicate you. I'm here to listen to you. Learn from you."

Connor grunted. She seemed genuine, but he was beyond wary and for fantastic reason. All these professionals always claimed to want to help him, then dismissed him, shoved meds down his throat, locking him away as they strove to erase the only thing that actually kept him sane. His Murphy.

"Careful, deartháir," cautioned his twin, who circled around the desk to peer closely at the psychiatrist who was trying to earn their trust. "You know how they'll say anything to get ya to open up and then use everything you've said against ya. Against us."

He snorted at his brother's warning, but the doctor took it as a reaction to her statement. "I understand your hesitation, but I assure you that if I wanted things to remain as they are, I wouldn't be talking with you right now. You'd go back to your room, continue taking your medications, sticking to the same therapy that doesn't seem to be working." She paused, clearly warring with herself before continuing. "Beyond trying to improve your status quo, I'll admit that I'm also here selfishly. You and Murphy fascinate me. You're special in the best way and I want to hear every word you're willing to share." She cleared her throat, obviously a bit flustered at speaking so candidly. "That is, if you'll indulge me."

"From the beginning, aye?" She nodded, face neutral. "How much time ya got, doc?"

Hint of a smile as she folded her hands together, listening attentively. "However much you need, Connor."

_He didn't just appear one day, out of thin air like a ghost. He'd always been there. It wasn't until much later that I realized that it wasn't normal that I could see and hear him while others couldn't. I had always thought that was just the way of it._

_Ma indulged me at first, thought it was, as you put it earlier, a phase that her child was going though. She set out an extra place setting for him at mealtimes, usually with food prepared to my specifications because that's the way Murphy liked it. It must have gutted her to hear me talk about him, as that was what her and Da actually named their youngest twin. The one who'd died in her womb. To be constantly reminded of that loss every fuckin' day by me, no wonder she drank so much._

_Da had left by then. I've no memory of him, but still always felt that it was my fault somehow that he was gone. She never blamed me, of course, for him or for Murph, and even confided once that she thought he would've left eventually, even if Murphy had lived, even if she didn't drink so much. That's just the kind of man he was, I was told, but that's about the extent of any details she gave about him. She was too bitter, but deep down I think she always loved him, despite him leaving._

_Ma was amazing, dealing with being a single parent with a child who could be considered unusual compared to most. I remember the night she finally lost her patience. Looking back, I'm shocked it hadn't happened sooner._

_I was five and we'd snuck out of bed and were curled up clutching each other on the couch, watching some old zombie flick on the telly only to be caught by Ma, who was beyond exasperated when I blamed Murphy for us being down there watching a scary movie. I saw the anger on her face and didn't understand why she was so mad at me. It really had been Murphy's idea. He loved zombie movies. Still does._

_Once I was in bed again, I'll never forget what she told me. "Connor, you're startin' school very soon and this business with Murphy has to stop. The teachers and other kids won't understand it. Hell, even I don't understand it." Her honesty told me she was still drunk from earlier. "It's gotta stop, Connor. I mean it. Don't talk to him, don't talk about him. He's not real and he never was."_

_Tough love, yeah, but I probably would've done the same if I'd been her._

_I cried myself to sleep, terrified. Murphy held me the whole night, tellin' me over and over again, "I'm real, Conn. I'm real. I'm here and I'm never leavin' ya."_

_It only took a few instances for me to learn to keep my fuckin' trap shut about Murph. I told one kid he couldn't sit to the right of me at lunch because my brother Murphy was sitting there. He sat anyway and I punched him hard on the arm, raving how he needed to get up, he was crushing Murphy. He looked at me like I was a total nutter and left for another table, the rest of the kids sitting with me following suit. Another time, I asked the teacher for another book, explaining that Murphy wanted one of his own. Fuck, I've never seen an adult so confused in my life, up until that point at least. I never spoke of Murphy again at school._

_The damage was done, though. I instantly became that weird kid in school. No friends. Eating lunch alone. Well, not alone. Murphy was there through it all, never left, never failed to cheer me up. Honestly though, I didn't need anyone else._

_Once, I sat next to a blind man on a bench at a bus stop. I think I was around 10. We chatted amicably while we waited, until he said, "Who's that sitting next to you? They're awfully quiet." I almost started crying, as he was the only person to have ever acknowledged Murphy's presence in a way other than to indulge me. And he's been the only one since to even suggest that he's real beyond just my own imagination._

_I told him that was my twin brother, Murphy, and he was shy._

_"So was I, lad, growing up," he shared, clearly addressing the spot on the bench to my right where Murphy sat. "You'll come into your own when you're supposed to."_

_I got on the bus, leaving the spot next to the window for Murphy. He likes the window seat. Anyway, he grinned at me, chattering excitedly. "Did ya hear 'im, Conn? He knew I was there! See! It's not just you. Just like I've told ya over and over. I'm really here, no matter what the others say!"_

_Secondary school was a bit better. Playing sports with the other lads helped me to make a few friends, but I kept most people at a distance still, too scared they would find out about Murph. Went to a few dances but never had a real girlfriend or anything. Murphy didn't like sharing._

"Still don't," Murphy snapped possessively, interrupting the narration for the first time and Connor chuckled slightly. He fumbled with his hands a bit, staring at them, unsure of how to continue, slight ache forming behind his eyes. He'd kill for a whiskey.

"Do you have anyone else in your life besides Murphy? Friends? Lovers?" Her question drew his eyes up to her kind face.

"Kinda hard to have sex when your twin brother's watching. I've done it, mind ya, but it's hard to forget he's there."

"So, no privacy then? You can't ask him to leave?"

"Would you ask your soul to leave? Especially just for a fast fuck?" Connor couldn't help the bark in his voice, frustration that no one seemed to understand that he wanted Murphy around all the time. If anything, he was the one who insisted upon his younger twin's constant presence.

Soothing fingertips trailed lightly over his back from one shoulder to the other, brief squeeze and noise of reassurance making warmth seep through Connor's veins like sunshine, feathers ruffled no more.

He had to remain calm, steadfast, focused on the goal.

Getting the fuck out of here.

Refocusing breath. "I do have friends. Rocco. Doc. Obviously, I don't see 'em much, only during my brief breaks from these pleasant little vacations of mine."

She drew her eyebrows together. "They don't come visit you?"

"I tell them not to. It's not somethin' I want them to see."

"See you in here?"

"See this fuckin' place period. No one should come here voluntarily." It hadn't been easy persuading them to stay away. Roc and Doc had once come together and each came individually one time as well. Connor had refused to see them every time, knowing they wouldn't hold it against him. He appreciated the effort with his whole heart, but he just couldn't.

"You mentioned fast fucks. But what about deeper, longer, more meaningful romantic relationships? Ever had one of those?"

"You tell me when that's supposed to happen for me? Or why I would even want to, for that matter? I mean, who in their right fuckin' mind would want to deal with this?" he posed while gesturing vaguely to himself. "With me?"

"You mean with you and Murphy?"

"No, I mean with me and all my issues."

She hummed to herself, and Connor could feel her mind trying to connect the various dots that led to the same conclusion they all seemed to come to.

Here it came, the inevitable question that plagued his doctors as much as it did himself. There was simply no way to make any of these shrinks understand what he and Murphy had. Closer than brothers. More profound than lovers. Deeper than soulmates.

"Are you and Murphy intimate?" She leaned forward, eyes becoming even more focused upon his own, probing for the truth.

He shrugged. "Of course we're close. We're twins," he answered breezily, purposefully misinterpreting the question.

Shaking her head, she called him out. "Connor. Don't play dumb with me." Damn. The deflection worked on about half of them. "If he was physically here, and you could feel him and he could feel you, would you want a sexual relationship with him?"

 _But I can feel him_ , he almost blurted out, stopping himself just in time. That was one aspect of his relationship with Murphy he had never told anyone. Not even his Ma. He could and did feel Murphy, the touch more real and gratifying than any of the faceless liaisons from his past.

"He's my fuckin' brother," Connor whispered, desperately aching for a cigarette as his fingers twitched.

"It's more common than you think." Her sincere statement was meant to be reassuring, but it reawakened something troubling inside his chest. Disturbing. Visceral.

He shifted in his seat, debating on how to proceed and he knew his unease was glaringly apparent in this professional's eyes. Shame in his stomach sat like a stone. "It's okay. I want it too, Conn," warm breath against the shell of his ear and Connor died a bit inside. They'd talked about it before, but now was not the fucking time for round infinity of this inconclusively confusing conversation.

"Dunno," he finally admitted in response to her unsettling question. "It's not a possibility, so it's pointless to consider, right? Besides, I suppose, it would be like wanting to have sex with myself, since Murphy's a figment of my mind." Connor realized that one stung his twin plenty, but it was something that had rolled around in his mind too frequently and his curiosity of how she would respond got the better of him.

"That's not entirely accurate. Believe me when I say, I have plenty of patients where that is the case, and you are not one of them." He quirked his left eyebrow at her, indicating that he wanted her to expound upon this statement. "You're not a narcissist, Connor. Murphy may be very similar to you in many ways, but he's not you. Desiring that kind of relationship with him doesn't mean you want yourself. You want him. He's your ideal. Your other half. Just like you are his."

Despite the lack of judgment in her tone, Connor shifted uncomfortably in his seat, hand unconsciously moving to his abdomen, fingers searching to clasp the familiar, comforting wood of the crosses, even though the rosaries hadn't graced his neck in months. He wasn't allowed to wear them in here, obviously. Just another reason he hated this place so vehemently. Murphy didn't wear his either while Connor couldn't. Always a matched pair, always.

Her sharp brown eyes followed his movement. "Tell me about the rosaries." Of course she knew about the rosaries, having obviously pored through his files prior to this little chat. He was thankful, yet regretful for the change of subject. "I'm assuming the second was supposed to be Murphy's."

"Aye," he replied softly. "The only thing our Da left behind for us, besides the old family prayer. He had two made when he found out Ma was having twins. He'd wanted to bury Murphy's with him, but Ma refused. I guess she knew I'd want it or something. Motherly instinct." He stared down at both hands back in his lap. "I miss them," he whispered.

"It must be hard to be without them," she commented, sympathy in her voice.

"I'd never use them to, well, hurt myself, despite what you all think. I don't want to do that anymore. Even back when it was a thought in my brain, I'd never use them for that."

"Would you mind talking about that time a bit? When you had thoughts of hurting yourself? I know it can be painful to talk about," she drifted off softly, waiting for him to make a decision.

He hesitated, then drew a deep breath. "It's not that it's painful for me to talk about. It kills Murphy. Not that I blame him. If he ever considered what I had, I dunno what I'd do."

_We'd been in Boston for maybe a year. Ma had brought me over to meet a few special doctors out here after I graduated, my condition beyond the help of local psychiatrists._

_I felt so isolated. Ma didn't understand. My new doctors sure as fuck didn't. If anything, they were less helpful than the ones I'd left behind in Ireland. Strange country, no friends or other family. No school. Ma worked two different jobs to make rent so I was by myself a lot._

_Well, not completely because Murphy was still there through it all. But even he couldn't pull me out of the pit. I stopped feeling. I stopped caring. I just wanted to make everything stop and didn't hide that fact from my twin._

_He hated that I talked about hurting myself. I hated him for being there in the first place, yelling at him to go, to leave me alone so I could be fuckin' normal for once. He walked out the door and didn't come back, no matter how much I begged and pleaded._

_I never actually considered myself to be crazy before, despite what the doctors told me. But those weeks without Murph there? That's what made me insane. That's what crazy feels like to me--him not by my side. I didn't even last a month before Ma had me committed._

_I screamed for him non-stop in my cell. Well, you guys call them rooms, but let's fucking face it. You lock us in cells. They drugged me, sedated me, tied me down when I attacked an orderly one too many times. He was just doing his job giving me my medication, I know, but I was fuckin' terrified that if they kept making me swallow those damn pills then I'd really never see Murphy again._

_I lost my voice, I lost weight, I lost my will to try, to fuckin' live._

_I don't know how he made it back to me, despite how doped up I was, one day waitin' for me calmly in my cell as I returned from a group therapy session. I guess he thought he'd punished me enough. Or, maybe, he couldn't stand to be away from me any longer, either. Not that it mattered. I was whole again._

_I made remarkable progress then, obedient and cooperative and actually contributing during my counseling. Lyin' through my fuckin' teeth the whole while, mind ya. Fuck. Probably shouldn't admit that out loud to you, of all people._

_Point is, I got better because I was better. Murphy made me better, makes me better. Not the lithium. Not the talking or sharing. It's only Murphy and always will be. I'll never give him up. Ever._

"Deartháir!" Murphy's cutting hiss made Connor jerk. "Too much!"

Fuck. Murphy was right. Connor had forgotten to censor himself, allowing himself to be honest, giving up the game that Murphy wasn't there and that he was sane according to their standards. He'd said too much and be back in a padded cell in the blink of a fuckin' eye. Shit. Clearing his throat, he sat up rigidly, eyes trained on hers, not daring to look away at his twin.

"I appreciate your candor and I appreciate you sharing your and Murphy's story." Murphy fidgeted behind him and Connor knew those fingers were fiddling with something, most likely his fuckin' mouth. "Connor. I know Murphy's been here this entire time. I know he never leaves your side." Swallowing heavily, Connor waited, breathing evenly despite the fact that his heart had plummeted to his feet. Fuck, he shouldn't have gotten his hopes up, he shouldn't--

"Despite what so many others have told you, I think Murphy is good for you, healthy for you. He's what causes you to not only manage your conditions, but to actually thrive in the real world. There's no reason to change that and being in here, trying to take him away from you does far more harm than good." Was it actually possible that someone finally fuckin' got it? Finally understood the inextricable relationship he had with his twin, one that never harmed anyone?

"You mean, I can go?"

"Yes. I'm clearing you for release. You can return home tomorrow. Although, I do have one condition and it's non-negotiable." Her weighted voice cut through the elation he and Murphy currently felt, and he fixed his eyes upon her brown ones. "I do have to insist that we continue our sessions as part of your out-patient program."

Connor chuckled, relief coursing through him.

"Is that for your benefit or mine?"

"Yours, of course, Connor," but her slight smirk gave away that she was still beyond curious about him and his relationship with his twin. No matter. He liked her best out of any doctor he'd ever seen and, at this point, he'd give up his left nut to get out of here, to breathe fresh air, to drink a freshly poured Guinness, to have a real conversation with Murphy in their flat, one that's earnest and spoken out loud instead of in his head.

"I can manage that, I think."

"Good." She smiled at him, genuine, and he couldn't help the matching one that spread itself upon his own face.

Connor wasn't sure which felt better when he finally stepped outside--the soft wind ruffling his hair or the sunshine on skin that lost its tawny color long ago. Regardless, either way, it felt like freedom. Freedom also smelled like tobacco and nicotine as he lit up his first cigarette in months, closing his eyes as he took what could be the most satisfying drag he'd had in his life, even though the open pack of smokes he'd turned in with his clothes and other belongings was stale as shit. Beside him, he heard Murphy also light up, fingering the two strands of worn, comforting beads between his fingertips. Murphy's was back around his neck as well, right where it belonged, and he returned Connor's bright grin as they both took synchronized drags and pulled their shades down over their eyes.

They were waiting for Rocco to pick them up, but the release process had gone faster than expected, so they had some time to themselves before he arrived. They finished their smokes as they crossed over the empty, concrete courtyard to wait by the curb, Connor studying his twin closely as he settled against the trunk of a nearby oak tree. The sunlight highlighted the features of Murphy's face, sharp cheekbones causing beautiful shadows to form upon the flawless planes of his face, ebony hair gleaming, white teeth dazzling.

As carefree and light as he felt to be out of hell once more, he was apprehensive and a bit anxious. Nothing new had been covered in this latest session exactly, but it seemed more notable, more substantial somehow. And he wasn't entirely sure how Murphy felt right now and that was unnerving.

It was always unsettling to talk about sex with his brother, even when just between the two of them. Merely the thought of it made Connor's insides twist, but definitively not in the way it should when one imagined fucking their sibling.

Murphy ripped off his sunglasses as he strode intently to where Connor leaned in the shade, and even the dappled light couldn't hide the blatant desire in his eyes. Reaching out, he tugged off Connor's pair of shades as well, dropping them to the grass without care before placing his palms against his twin's neck, thumbs stroking his jawline lovingly as he breathed out, "Connor."

Connor felt stunned, pinned to the tree by those orbs of blue, and only moved when his brother's warm lips crashed against his own, deviously skilled tongue instantly delving inside to stroke, coaxing a moan full of relief and desire from Connor. Strong, sure fingers moved up to entwine themselves into his hair, firmly moving Connor's head where Murphy wanted it, tasting him greedily with a fierce growl rumbling through his chest, reverberating through Connor, igniting the coals of longing that had been lying dormant far too fucking long. He licked, nipped, bit, fucking savored those lips, that fucking mouth and Murphy met him with such a delicious urgency, matching each other in their need, and Connor had never been so goddamn aware of his tongue in his entire fucking life.

Had kissing always been this fucking good?

It was insanely hot and insanely bizarre and insanely intense and Connor broke it off before he wanted to, using the last threads of cognitive function to realize that he heard the distinctive roar of Rocco's engine in the distance, along with the fact that if anyone saw him making out with thin air, they'd lock him up without hesitation once more.

There was a time and a place for more, it was not now and not here.

But he definitely wanted fucking more, and judging from the blissed out look on Murphy's face, he was certainly not the only one. "Finally," Murphy sighed, eyes slowly flitting open to capture Connor's, barely moving his slender hips forward to brush the hardened length of his cock against Connor's own straining erection, eliciting a filthy groan from them both.

"I'm just getting started," Murphy whispered darkly in his ear.

"Fuck, Murph," Connor rasped, slamming his head with a hard thunk against the rough bark of the tree, using the brief pain to try to bring him around to reality. It didn't work.

The slamming of Rocco's car door certainly did help with that, however, and Murphy drew himself away while Connor focused on steadying his breath, willing his erection to retreat despite the way his twin's predatory eyes glittered knowingly as Rocco walked over, clasping Connor's shoulder before pounding on his back.

"So fuckin' good to see ya, man!" Connor couldn't help but smile as his friend's enthusiasm. It was good to see Roc, really good.

"You, too!" He followed the scruffy Italian to his sedan, settling in the back seat as Murphy piled in after him. Rocco didn't comment, just threw a fresh pack of smokes into Connor's lap, flashing him a wide grin in the rear-view mirror. "You're a fuckin' lifesaver," Connor told him seriously, immediately setting to work to pack the cigarettes against his palm before lighting one. The fresh tobacco and nicotine flooded his system and he practically vibrated with sensations, lips burning from his brother's kiss. He held the cigarette between his fingers, palm resting on the seat so Murphy could partake as well.

Rocco threw his arm around the back of the passenger headrest as he twisted around to ask Connor, "So, where to? Your place or the bar?"

One sideways glance to the right at the smirk turning up the side of his twin's reddened lips, the blazing fire in Murphy's indigo eyes and Connor didn't hesitate to answer, "Our place first, Roc."

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading!


End file.
